Weasel In a Box
by Winter Fleur
Summary: When Draco catches Ginny in a rather compromising position, blackmail ensues. However, what started out as a petty school trick spirals into something much darker...
1. The Return

Hello dear readers! Here is my first installment, RAYOR! (Read At Your Own Risk).

Enjoy!

* * *

"Ginny!" Ron yelled up the stairs to the girl's dorm. He tapped his foot impatiently, changing his grip on the railing every few seconds. "Gin, I need to ask you something!"

"What is it, brother dear?" A voice called. A mass of shining deep red hair appeared in the archway, its owner clutching a book in her hand.

"Have you seen Hermione?" Seeing his sister's raised brows and knowing smirk, Ron's ears turned pink and he absolved hastily, "We were just going down to the ―she wanted to tell me ―er, we need to… study?"

Ginny grinned, smoky gray eyes twinkling with amusement. "Or you're just going for a quick snog in the prefect's bathroom."

After a few more seconds of watching her brother squirm awkwardly, Ginny laughed, "I think she had all her stuff moved to the Head Girl's dorm. She should be back in a few minutes, if you want to wait. There, now you guys can snog all you want, since she has her own room, and there won't be any nasty Filch or prying little first years to come interrupt you―"

"Ginny!" Ron said, a mortified expression forming on his face and his ears turning bright red. His baby sister was _not_ supposed to know these things!

"Sorry brother dear," she laughed. "Just thought you might want to know." Still grinning, Ginny turned around and made her way back to her dorm room. _How_ Ron could be so naïve as to think that his sixteen-year old sister did not know what snogging was, much less not had a proper kiss, was beyond her. Well, let her take that back; she didn't mind Ron's clearly male stupidity, so long as he didn't morph into over-protective big brother mode―

"Ginny! How do you know― have you―" she could just imagine the look of comprehension dawning on her brother's face before he roared, "Who was it? I want to know, right now, right here, and that bloody git will _pay_ for touching my baby sister―"

Ginny decided right now would be a very good time for a broom ride.

A _long_ one.

* * *

Curtains pulled shut to hide her from unwanted eyes, the redhead sat huddled in the middle of her bed, shaking. The shadowy moonless night encircled her, the sounds of her roommates barely penetrating the eerie darkness. But it wasn't the darkness she was afraid of, oh no― it was _him_.

He was back.

She had thought he was gone, and over time and much determination she had forgotten everything, until now.

A drop of fear sweat glided down the side of her face as a torrent of memories surged over the barriers she had made a long time ago, drowning her.

The trust, the smell of aging parchment, the relief. _I understand you_, he had said, and she had believed.

Waking up with bloody hands, the fear, the betrayal. She had tried to get rid of him.

The doubt, clouding her and making her believe that she might have been wrong about him. She had been so gullible, so easy to manipulate.

The cold hard stone of the Chamber, the ghostly brushes of his fingers on her thigh. The icy laughter as she faded away, knowing what would happen when she woke up. The touches were promises, chilling reminders… and he would keep his promise. He was back, and he was coming for her.

Cold fear-sweat dampening her neck, Ginny rocked back and forth on her mattress with her eyes squeezed shut. Two glassy trails ran down her cheeks, the drops gathering on her chin and threatening to fall onto the covers.

The tears.

* * *

A single week had gone by since she had first felt Tom's presence in the earthly world again, and Ginny had an iron resolve. She would not let him take her so easily this time. She would be ready.

The sixteen-year old girl sat at a table in the library, several stacks of books obscuring her face from view. Quill scratching on a half-filled piece of parchment, Ginny frowned in concentration as she read from a rather large tome. Her long golden-red hair spilled in a wavy cascade over her shouldersand ontothe table, gleaming in the light of the library and windows. Her face, currently poring over the words, still held the marks of summer; a smattering of freckles and rosy sun was brushed across the tops of her cheeks and button nose. Her eyes were smoky charcoal gray, long lashes veiling them for the moment as they darted back and forth from parchment to book and back again.

It had to be here somewhere… she knew she wouldn't find what she was looking for in this book, but it should tell her where else to look, other titles or some such. Flipping another page, Ginny's eyes widened and then gleamed as she saw what was written there. Perfect.

Tearing off a corner from her parchment, the redhead laboriously copied down the book title from the inscription on the page. She was sure she couldn't find this particular tome in the regular library, but… Ginny looked over at the forbidding iron gate that closed off the Restricted Section.

Perhaps.

A thud sounded at the other end of the table, and Ginny frowned, peering around her stack of books to see who had so rudely interrupted her train of thought.

"What Weasley? Can't a man study without being ogled by worthless scum?"

"Well, hasn't _someone_ got a broomstick up the ass," said Ginny disdainfully, leaning on one elbow. Malfoy regarded her with blue-grey eyes, his silvery fair hair brushing across them lazily. A chiseled jaw and cheekbones made for a very handsome, if not dead sexy, effect.

Ginny would admit it, he _was_ very good-looking (and he obviously knew it). That did not excuse him for being an arrogant prick.

"Oh, this is news, the Weaselette's grown a backbone," he said, propping his feet up on the table. "Yes, you've obviously grown it, a Weasley couldn't afford to purchase one themselves."

"Well _that_ put me in my place, really," Ginny answered wryly.

"Been dreaming of Potty recently? I hear he's desperately single right now, bet he'd _love_ a bit of comfort. Always been you're dream, hasn't it?"

"Whatever you'd like to think." Seeing the Slytherin open his mouth for another comeback, she added, "Shove it Malfoy, I'm in no mood."

"What? Did daddy have to put the house up for mortgage? Worried it won't sell for as much as those rags you call clothes? I would be worried too, that dump isn't exactly prime real estate―"

"Shut the fuck up, you bloody twit," Ginny seethed.

"Language Weasley, you're soiling my ears. I'll have to take points for that, you know, mouthing off to the Head Boy is unacceptable―"

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, you don't own the bloody school!" she exploded, temper flaring. "I don't see why you have to bloody insult me when I didn't say _one fucking word_ to you!"

She expected him to fly into a furious rage, to hex her into oblivion or something as equally dangerous to her health, but he did nothing of the sort, merely regarding her with one of his eyebrows raised.

"Now let's remember the ickle first-years, Weaselette. You'll taint them with that filthy mouth." Draco looked appreciatively at the curve of her breasts resting on the table, before languidly adding, "Really, you shouldn't hold in all that emotion. If there's something you need to, you know, get off your _chest_…" He glanced suggestively at her breasts.

This, of course, enraged her all the more. "You― you― ugh, words cannot even _begin_ to describe…"she scrunched violently behind her wall of books and out of sight, seething. Detecting that a crack between the volumes allowed her to see his infuriating smirk, Ginny shoved the piles together in hopes of secluding herself. Instead, it caused them to topple over onto her work and bag, revealing the rest of her face to Malfoy's languorous gaze.

"Argh!" she cried. Snatching up her belongings,Ginny stalked out of the library, face flushed with anger and embarrassment.

* * *

Alrighty. I tried to improve my sentence structure a bit on this, it would be very, very helpful if you could tell me how I did. I would love reviews... and those who do it get cookies! Come on people, you know you can't resist the home-baked gooey chocolate chip cookies... you know you want some...


	2. Of Plots and Infected Weasel Bites

* * *

Draco watched her go, sneering. It was so easy to get under her skin, almost as easy asroiling upher brother. Although, there _were_ certain advantages to riling up the Weaselette… such as the way her eyes narrowed and her hips swung deliciously whenever she stormed away. Don't get him wrong, he didn't like the trashy bit of filth, per say, but as a male he was certainly not immune to obvious female assets. 

Nor did he have any wish to be in the very near future.

Leaning back on two legs of his chair, Draco was just about ready to settle down for a nap when something at the other end of the table caught his eye. One of Weaselette's love notes? Curious, the seventeen-year old leaned forward and grabbed hold of the scrap of parchment, scanning it quickly.

"What the hell―?" Draco sat back in his chair, dumbfounded. A book title was written on the parchment in loose but careful handwriting; he knew it instantly to be Ginny's. _How did _she_ know about that book?_ He wondered silently. _And more importantly, why in hell's name did she want anything to do with it? _

_

* * *

_

"Hey Gin-bug, pass down the rolls?"

Ginny looked up from her breakfast, rolled her eyes, and handed the basket of bread to Ron. Really, he must have a hole in his toe or something, as there was nowhere else the food he consumed seemed to be going.

She watched bemusedly as her brother stuffed an entire piece of bread in his mouth and reached for another, only to be stopped quickly by Hermione's disapproving glance. Lord, when was the girl going to figure it out that Ron was head-over-heels for her? Hermione was smart, but give her a situation like a boy lusting after her and she was painfully oblivious.

Chewing a bite of waffle, Ginny listened half-heartedly to the trio's conversation. Most of her other friends were off finishing up what they termed to be Snape's worst homework yet; she hadn't had any trouble with it, and had therefore finished it a few nights ago.

"Anyway, I was thinking that maybe tonight would be the night to―" Harry broke off from his suddenly conspiratorial whisper to glance at Ginny, before saying meaningfully, "To do_ it_." This time all three of them sneaked a look at Ginny, who pretended to be fully engaged in her meal. The trio gallivanting off to Hermione's Head Girl room to do whatever they planned during meals was not uncommon; they did it at least once every two weeks.

And no, it wasn't _that_.

Although she had no real interest in exactly what it was they were doing, Ginny kept listening. If they were indeed staying in Hermione's room for the night, then they wouldn't need Harry's Invisibility Cloak― a perfect time for her to put her own plans of sneaking out into action.

"Same place?" she heard Ron whisper as they finally drew apart from their not-so-discreet huddle in the middle of the Great Hall. Really, she would have to think of a polite way to suggest to her brother that next time they planned something potentially illegal, they shouldn't be so obvious about it.

"Gin, I think I'm feeling a bit ill," said Ron loudly. Harry nodded his agreement, trying to paste a nauseous look on his face. "I might stay the night at the infirmary." The youngest Weasley barely contained the urge to roll her eyes at the two's attempts to cover up their plans. She only hoped Hermione wasn't going to act as dense as them; the occurrence would signal the beginning of the apocalypse. Really, how stupid did they think the rest of the table was?

Ginny knew her jaw must have hit the table when a few of the Gryffindors distantly offered their apologies and a few get-wells, before resuming their consumption of breakfast.

Maybe Ron _was_ right in assuming that their house was a bunch of gullible imbeciles.

Turning back to her now-empty plate, Ginny mulled over the details of _her_ plan ―in her opinion, much more discreetly than the three who had just left the table.

Harry and Ron would be out of their dorm tonight, although she couldn't vouch for the other seventh-year boys. She would just have to risk sneaking in to get Harry's Invisibility Cloak after the rest of them were asleep. Hopefully, they all slept like logs―

―Ginny was willing to bet that if they had gotten to sleep with Ron's snores for almost seven years, they most probably did.

The issue of getting into the library was not a problem, as Filch locked the doors from the inside at around ten o'clock. All she had to do was get in there no later than ten of ten, as she would prefer not to run into Filch (or more specifically that damn cat of his) if she could help it.

She _still _didn't know whether the bloody feline could see through Invisibility Cloaks or not.

Once she was in, it was a simple process of a silencing charm and raising the catch to the Restricted Section, and she'd have all the time in the world. Pity the Marauder's Map had long since disappeared from the Golden Trio's clutches; it could have really helped her.

Stretching, Ginny came slowly back into reality, and realized with a certain amount of disgust that she had been staring at the Slytherin table during her space-out. Ignoring Zabini, who was making eyes at her (no doubt due to her traitorous gaze's wanderings during space-cadet mode), the redhead brushed off her skirt and strode briskly out of the Great Hall.

* * *

"Nox." Ginny's face disappeared as the light extinguished, leaving her to stride up the stairs to the boys' dorm in darkness. If they were anything like the girls', the seventh year's rooms would be at the very end of the hall. Padding down the carpeted passage, the redhead slowly pushed open the door and slipped in.

She sighed with relief as Neville's snores met her ears; she had been correct in her assumptions about the similar dorms. As she stepped carefully along the wall, Ginny searched for Harry's trunk. It was at the end of his bed, and she noted with some amount of scorn that the catch was undone; no doubt he had simply not bothered to lock it.

This is what you get for being careless, Ginny thought with contempt before casting a quick silencing charm on the hinges; he probably didn't bother to grease his trunk properly either. Lifting the lid, Ginny moved aside a pile of socks and chocolate frogs to grope around the bottom of the chest. There. She pulled out the liquid-like material, letting it flow through her fingers like cooled water.

Quickly pulling it the rest of the way out, something hard unraveled from inside the cloak and hit the bottom of the chest with a decidedly loud thunk. Ginny froze, horrified, as a rustling sound came from one of the beds.

" Harry? S'at you?" a voice said groggily.

Not daring to even breath, Ginny waited a few painstaking seconds as the rustles grew louder, then subsided. She peered cautiously around the corner of Harry's bedpost, and saw a form snuggling back under its covers. Phew.

Not about to take any more chances, the redhead threw the cloak over her shoulders and padded stealthily out of the room. Only when she was safely down in the common room did Ginny light her wand back up again, using it to check the time.

_Shit_. Five minutes to get down there before Filch.

Racing across the carpet, Ginny pushed open the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady's disapproving banter about after hours and racing as quietly as she could to the library. Down the hall and two sets of stairs, left turn and another set… Jumping down the last four stairs, she skidded to a stop in front of the library's oaken doors, panting and somewhat out of breath. Stiffening, Ginny saw the yellow glow of Filch's lantern and quickly slipped through into the library, wincing as the hinges creaked a bit.

"'Oo's there?"

Ginny could hear the ragged breathing of the man through the door, and stepped back from the door hastily as Filch's hand entered with a key.

"We'll just lock up, my pet, and then we'll be going in."

Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Ginny resisted the urge to tap her foot while his hand groped for the lock and found it, turning the metal almost painfully slowly. She waited until his footsteps died away before turning to the gate of the Restricted Section.

These hinges was bound to creak, as so few people went in it these days, so Ginny muttered another silencing spell over them and carefully eased up the catch of the gate, before sliding between the two forbidding bars of iron.

Book title in mind, the redhead walked slowly down the darkened row, letting the Invisibility Cloak slither off her shoulders and onto the floor. She would pick it up on her way out.

"Beasts and Demons… Greenwich burnings… Uses of Poplar…" Ginny went down the row of books, squinting to read the titles. "Sorcerers of Old… Spells… Su― aha!" The redhead pressed her trembling finger to the spine of the book, muttering the incantation to keep from tripping the screaming charm. Pulling it gently off the shelf, Ginny sat down where she was and took the tome in her lap.

"Summonsing of the Thirde Dark Age." She read the title almost reverently, shivering at the contorted face that was trapped between the cover of the book, shrieking soundlessly at her. Yes, this was a Dark book all right. However dangerous it was, it was the only thing that could help her. Tom wouldn't believe her to have this much resolve.

Gingerly opening the cover, Ginny gave an audible breath of relief as she saw that there were no more entities trapped within the pages, like the one on the cover. It would be hard enough reading without twisted faces leering at her from every piece of parchment.

She turned to the table of contents, scanning the list quickly. "Summonsing of the Demones, page one-hundred sixty-two." Well, that was straightforward enough. Flipping countless pages, Ginny was distracted for a moment by the way the ink shimmered in the moonlight, all hues of teal and blue and aqua.

"I wonder what they wrote this with," she murmured to herself, running her fingers over the pages.

"Demon blood."

Ginny only had time to let loose the beginnings of a scream before a slim pale hand was clapped over her mouth.

"Lmphlgmph!" the redhead gave a muffled shriek of indignation, her voice stifled by the hand. A deep cacophony of laughter echoed down the row of books.

"Tsk tsk, a Weaselette out of bed," the voice said silkily.

Ginny's eyes widened in comprehension, then anger. "Mmphl!" Seeing that the hand was not about to be removed, she opened her mouth and bit down. Hard.

"Yeow! Gods woman, what are you, a bloody vampire?"

Ginny just glared at him, her mind racing wildly through plans of escape. To be caught after hours, in the Restricted Section, by the Head Boy, who happened to be _Malfoy_, of all people… she cursed herself vehemently.

"You should warn people before you do that," Draco said, shaking his hand out. "Now I'm probably infected."

"Good."

Raising his eyebrows and smirking, the Slytherin replied, "I don't think you're in a situation to be difficult right now Weaselette. You see, under the circumstances, I can get you expelled."

Ginny suddenly felt a cold, squirming sensation in the pit of her stomach that slowly spread to her chest, hands, and toes. Oh no, this was not good… expelled… the word doused her like a bucket of ice-water. Kicked out… all of her O.W.L.S gone to waste, not even any N.E.W.T.S yet, her mother… her _mother_. Her mother would kill her. Or her brother, if he found out before mum… she would have to live in the Forbidden Forest to escape them all―

"I see you realize the state of affairs." Draco watched with mild interest as Ginny's face paled rapidly.

"So?" Ginny blanched as her voice came out in a squeak, much to the older boy's amusement. Clearing her throat, she spat out with a bit more gusto, "How'd you find me anyway?"

Draco pulled a tattered piece of parchment from the pocket of his cloak.

"The Marauder's Map!" Ginny gave him a seething look. "Harry and Ron have been looking for that for ages, you thief!"

"I did _not_ steal it," Draco hissed, his demeanor turning cold. "I don't need to steal from anyone. Your precious _Harry_ was careless enough to leave it sitting in the Prefect's bathroom, all alone and unattended. How he was stupid enough to do so, I have no idea, I don't spend my time trying to figure out the way the fucking idiot's mind works, but believe me when I say that it has proven… _more_ than useful."

Ginny spluttered in indignant rage, grabbing her book and shoving it under one arm. "Fine, keep it for all I care! Now if you will _excuse_ me…" The redhead made a move to step past Draco, and collided firmly with his chest. "Move."

"You're forgetting something, Weaselette." Draco's icy eyes glittered in the moonlight. "I found you here, and therefore I can get you expelled. Do you really think I'm going to keep my mouth shut?"

Ginny glared murderously at him. "What do you want?" she ground out through her teeth, gripping her book with white knuckles.

"Well for starters, you can tell me what in the seven names of hell you need _that_ for," he said, pointing to the object under her arm. It was something he had been wondering for days, ever since he had seen its title written down in Ginny's careful handwriting. "That's one of the darkest books on summonsing; you shouldn't even _know_ about it."

"And you should? It's none of your fucking business what I do with this book, _ferret_," she spat.

"Touchy. Don't use that language with me Weasel, you're not in the best of positions to do so." He regarded her with liquid mercury eyes, a smirk spreading slowly across his face. "Well then, if you won't tell me… you will be my personal slave for the remainder of the school year."

"Oh, no. Oh hell fucking _no_. What do you think I am, a fucking laundry maid?" Ginny could feel her grip on her temper slip further away, and tried desperately to hold on. He _did_ have the evidence to get her expelled, damn it, and it wasn't going to help her situation any if she launched herself off the floor and tried to smash his face in. Tantalizing though the idea was…

"No, actually." Draco smirked again. "I think you're a very stupid little girl to get caught by me."

"I didn't _ask_ you to follow me with that damn map, ferret-face."

"Quite right." He brushed her comment off with an airy wave of the hand. "So, what's it going to be? The book? Or serving my enlightened self for the rest of the year?" He studied her face intently, the picture of polite curiosity.

_Polite my ass_, Ginny thought crossly, feeling the need to rub her temples. She couldn't tell him about Tom, she _couldn't_. Besides, he would probably run home to tell daddy dearest, who would in turn run and tell Tom. And then, her plan would be useless.

"Servitude," Ginny muttered, not meeting his eyes. She would just have to stick it out; it was better serving the bloody prick for a measly year than serving a _lifetime_ for Tom, which is what would happen if her plan didn't work. "Servitude."

Had the redhead looked up, she would have seen a flicker of surprise pass through Draco's usually cool and detached face. What was so important that she chose slaving away to _him_ for a year over revealing it? Draco's curiosity, he hated to admit, was roused. He would get the information out of the chit eventually; after all, he did have the _entire year_… oh, he was going to love rubbing this in.

"What's that? Sorry, I couldn't hear you." He watched gleefully as her face contorted with rage.

"I _said_, servitude," she bit out grudgingly.

"Ah now, that's not the attitude of a faithful servant." Draco let his eyes roam over her form appreciatively, long slim legs, perfectly sized breasts… he allowed her to notice his inspection, smirking as she quickly readjusted her robes to cover her nightclothes.

"What exactly does this _servitude_ include?" Ginny asked suspiciously, wary of his wandering eyes.

Draco smirked. "Well, the usual, of course; cleaning my room, serving me when I don't feel like going down for meals, a bit here, a bit there…"

"Nothing… _nasty_."

"That's a very general word Miss Weasley, what you define as nasty may not be _my_ interpretation of the acts involved."

"Nothing even _remotely sexual_ is what I meant, you bastard."

Draco's eyes gleamed. "Come now, Weasley, I have _needs_―"

"Yeah, well, find some other little slut to― to do whatever the hell it is you do. I'll be you're laundry maid, but I _refuse_ to be your whore. Bastard."

"Perhaps…" the seventeen-year old mused, and appeared to ponder something before snapping back to attention. "Oh, and I'll have you know, Weaselette, my parents were a perfectly legal couple when I was born, so if you would refrain from using the term _bastard_?"

Ginny thought of something else. "And nothing that involves compromising my game on the Quidditch field. I'm not going to play like shit just because you tell me to."

"Fine, fine." Draco flapped his hand impatiently. "I wouldn't need you to do that anyway in order for me to win. Now, let's see about a binding contract. If you would repeat after me? 'I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, vow to be Draco Malfoy's faithful slave for the remainder of this Hogwarts school year, performing any act which he deems necessary, and should I dare to disobey him, he reserves all rights to make known her nighttime wandering into the Restricted Section of said school's library'."

A muscle twitched in Ginny's face; she wondered if it was possible to break a tooth from clenching one's jaw too hard. Probably. "Do you just memorize these things? The way you spit that out, I'd think you made this a common occurrence." From the look Draco gave her, she hastily swallowed. Maybe she should just not think about that.

"Time, Weaselette, I _do_ plan on sleeping sometime tonight."

Glaring murderously at his bored-looking visage, the redhead ground out, "I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, vow to be Draco Malfoy's faithful slave for the remainder of this Hogwarts school year, performing any act which he deems necessary, and should I dare to disobey him, he reserves all rights to make known her nighttime wandering into the Restricted Section of said school's library." Scowling, Ginny refused to look at him, and what she was sure was an infuriatingly smug gaze.

"Ah now, we can't have that. _Faithful_, remember?" He grabbed her chin with two fingers, forcing her to look at his eyes. Charcoal met stormy gray-blue for a moment, before the redhead looked stubbornly away.

"Never said anything about willingness," Ginny muttered, surprising a chuckle out of him.

"Well, I'll school you in deference to your master another time," he answered, smirking. "I expect you to be down at breakfast seven-thirty sharp. We will be dining at _my_ table of preference, of course." Draco stood up and walked towards the exit.

"Seven― seven _thirty_? Fuck no, there is no way in _hell_―"

"Pity, really. Without you there to monitor me, I might just, ah, let something _slip_."

Ginny scowled. "Point taken."

Draco stopped in front of the door and turned slightly, the moonlight defining his sculpted features and making his silvery blond hair seem to glow. "Oh, and Weasley? _Do_ try and make yourself presentable. I would hate to have to school you in appearance as well as respect."

He strode out the door, leaving Ginny to mutter strangled curses after him from the darkened library.

* * *

Well? Do you like it? I was so happy getting reviews, people, seriously, you have no idea. 

Thanks to **jjp91**(thanx!),**xnewfiexmuttx**(yeah, I'm sorry. Feel free to make any suggestions mine forgot to make, though!), **dementorchic** (heh, okies!) and **Cinderalli** (yes, well I suppose you're right...)

Oh, and if anyone wants to rant with me about Half-Blood Prince, put up a review with your email, and I will gladly rant to you XD... I don't know if anyone else has finished it yet... probably not, as there have not yet been any attempts on Ms. Rowling's life yet.

Toodles!

Well? Do you like it? I was so happy getting reviews, people, seriously, you have no idea. 


	3. The First Order

Ah, after a nice longish break, here's the next chappie! And I just noticed that none of my other chapters have disclaimers, I'm going to do a permanent one right now.

deep breath **I DO NOT OWN ANY CHARACTERS, PLACES, ETC. FROM THE WORLD OF HARRY POTTER, BECAUSE IF I DID, I WOULD BE JK ROWLING, AND I WOULD BE VERY, VERY RICH. WHICH I AM NOT.**

There. Now I feel better. well, happy reading!

* * *

Ginny trudged blearily through the doors of the Great Hall, glaring as Malfoy smirked at her from across the room. The good thing about being up this early was that Ron wouldn't be here to see her sitting with the Slytherins; whatever it was that they had been cooking up at Hermione's, they always slept in afterwards. It was a small comfort, anyway. It really was too bad she couldn't read any of the book last night; maybe she could have summoned a demon to scald Malfoy with coffee.

"Manage to drag yourself out of bed?" drawled the seventeen-year old boy as Ginny sat stiffly down next to him, ignoring the rest of the gawking Slytherin table.

The redhead only glared, grabbing a pot ofcoffee and pouring herself some.

"So Draco, what's the Weaselette doing here?" Blaise said from the blond's other side. His dark hair was the same style as Draco's; long, soft, and incredibly attractive.

"I seduced her under the moonlight with a bowl of strawberries and she's been following me ever since." Draco smirked as Ginny choked on her coffee, spitting a good deal of it across the table.

"Like _hell_ you did―" Ginny stopped short as she felt a none-too-gentle kick.

"What did I say," Draco muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "about acting like a nice, _pleasant_ servant?"

"No, Zabini, he did _not_ seduce me with a, a bowl of fruit or any of that nonsense," she corrected haltingly, trying not to put too much stress on the words _not_ and _bowl of strawberries_. _Urgh, to even _imagine_… no, do not even put that idea in my head. Although, if the opportunity arose_―_ no! No, no, no, no!_ "I'm just, erm, I'm just…"

"I'm tutoring her in charms," Draco cut in smoothly. Forget the fact Ginny was, in fact, brilliant in the class.

His best friend raised his eyebrows. "Mate, isn't she in Advanced Charms with us?"

"My point exactly. Never should've been moved up, in my opinion; it really is quite too difficult for her."

Ginny gave a warning stomp on Draco's toe. Smiling through clenched teeth, the redhead corrected, "With all my other classes, it helps tone down my stress level a bit." She would tolerate this fibbing up to a certain point; namely, when her intelligence began to come into question.

"Well, if Draco here won't cooperate in his tutelage properly…" Blaise's voice dropped suggestively. "I'd be _more_ than willing."

Choosing to ignore the obvious offer, Ginny answered innocently, "Thanks a bunch, but Draco's fine for the moment. Although, I've heard Luna's been having some trouble..."

Blaise absolved himself hastily. "No, no, quite all right."

"Really Blaise, I don't think she takes very well to suggestive comments," Draco said as he buttered a piece of toast.

"You _would _be the one to know." Blaise glanced speculatively at Draco's wounded hand, grinning. "Yes, judging by that rather nasty-looking bite mark, I probably should have guessed."

Ginny tinged pink. "Well, he deserved it."

"So, what's with that Ravenclaw wench you were going on about?" Draco said, turning to Blaise. Ginny happily secluded herself, grabbing a muffin from the basket. "She's been giving you cow-eyes all morning."

"She thinks there was something more to last night than a quick shag," Blaise answered idley as he poured maple syrup over his waffles. "Speaking of which, how was Marietta? You know―"

Ginny felt a muscle twitch in her mouth. This conversation was steadily going down the road of things she did _not_ want to hear.

"Do I really have to listen to this?" Ginny cut in, flushing. "I'd rather not hear about your nightly conquests, if it's all the same to you."

"What, jealous?" Draco said lazily, plucking a cherry out of the fruit bowl.

"_No_!" Ginny's face grew red with embarrassment. "I just don't want any nasty little images floating around in my head for the rest of the day!"

"Ah, well, you'll just have to deal with it, won't you?" Draco smirked before turning back to Blaise, who wore an amused expression on his visage. This could prove interesting. "Now, as I was saying about Marietta, she _is_ quite as good as rumor has it. I presume Chang taught her a few things, especially with the tongue―"

"Oh dear, I _do_ wonder what Harry, Ron, and Hermione were doing so late last night that they had to miss breakfast," Ginny said in Draco's direction. "One might wonder what on _earth_ they were involved in, for all three of them to spend the night in Hermione's Head Girl room." Ginny knew, in fact, that nothing of which she was hinting at would never, ever, in any alternate universes happen.

But, Draco didn't know that.

Said Slytherin was looking a bit ill. "So Blaise, anyway, I heard Marietta was one to use her teeth―"

"―Oh, and speaking of Hermione's rooms, I was helping hermove in the other week, and it absolutely _astounds_ me at how much _larger_ her bed is than the ones we have in the dorms; goodness, that thing could sleep _three people_ comfortably and still have room for―"

"Enough!" Draco said, clapping his hands over his ears, eyes wide. "Do not soil my mind any further!"

"Good. The feeling's mutual," Ginny said pleasantly, taking a satisfied bite out of her muffin.

Draco glared sullenly at the redhead's profile. Seeing her watch him suspiciously out of the corner of her eye, he got the vague impression that she thought he was leering when she hastily drew her robes closer to her body.

Draco saw no reason to disappoint the Weaselette. And he had just gotten a little idea for revenge. "You know Weaseley, didn't I tell you to make yourself presentable before you came down here?"

Ginny flushed indignantly. "I _am_ presentable."

"Maybe to your standards, Weaselette." He brushed his fingers across her neck before whispering," But not to _mine_."

The redhead yanked back, cheeks flushed a rather becoming shade of pink. "I'm as presentable as it's going to get, Malfoy!"

"We'll see," he said pleasantly. "Expect my owl tonight before dinner; I'm sending garb that is suitable to be worn in my presence."

Ginny glared suspiciously at the seventeen-year old, not liking the idea of putting on anything Malfoy had picked out. Knowing him, it would be a snake costume or something of similar atrocity.

"Oh, and Ginevra?" Ginny's head snapped up at the use of her full name, eyes narrowed rebelliously. "Wipe that glare off your face. It's unbecoming."

* * *

Ginny trudged up the stairs, hauling her load of books alongside her. She would have much rather skipped dinner tonight and read a bit further in her summonsingbook; she was starting to feel edgy as Tom's feeling of power increased. It wasonly two weeks until the next full moon, and she had to be ready then, or risk waiting another month. But, of course, her _master _had demanded she be present at dinner, so there it was.

She only hoped Ron would not be there; all she needed was for him to see her sitting at the Slytherin table, on top of whatever Malfoy had planned in his nasty little mind. He was a dear, but he could be such a prick when it came to things like that.

Dropping her bag on the four-poster bed, Ginny flopped down and glared silently at the ceiling. All of this because she had been caught with that stupid book, in that stupid library, by stupid bloody Malfoy, because of stupid bloody Tom. If she had never even picked up that stupid bloody diary in the first place, the bloody lunatic wouldn't even know who she was. If she hadn't known Tom, then she could concentrate her hate solely on Malfoy. She could only imagine the kickthe bloody ferretwas getting out of this whole servant thing; her only consolation was that he hadn't yet thought to rub it in her brother's face.

That would be a very _bad_ idea.

_Tap tap tap_. Ginny sat up grudgingly, knowing all too well that any owl Malfoyowned would not appreciate being kept waiting. Unlatching the window, she let it fly in and settle haughtily on her bed, a package tied to its leg.

"Lucky me," the redhead muttered as she noticed a note on top. Opening it, Ginny scanned the parchment quickly.

_Ginevra,_

_I expect you to wear this down to dinner. _

_DM_

_p.s. A cloak will not be necessary. In fact, I forbid you from wearing one._

Ginny looked uneasily at the package. Maybe she could just say the owl never came; she didn't think she would like whatever Malfoy planned for her. Yes, the owl never came. Standing up, the redhead walked quickly towards the door.

"HOOT!"

Turning quizzically, Ginny was met with a sudden view of brown and gray before Draco's owl came barreling into her.

Trust the bloody prick's owl to be as obstinate as he was.

Muttering curses under her breath, Ginny removed the package none too gently from the animal's leg before shooing it back out the window. Now to open the damn thing, whatever it was. Tearing open the brown paper, a sudden whooshing sound met her ears before she felt another layer of clothing clap itself onto her person.

"God damn, Malfoy, I _can_ get dressed on my own." Muttering incoherent things about bloody dressing charms and ferrets and such, Ginny stepped in front of her mirror to remove her normal uniform. Whatever it was, it was just underneath her normal clothes―

"Bloody _hell_, Malfoy! There is no way in all of seven hells I'm wearing this!"

* * *

Draco sat lazily at his place at the head of Slytherin table. No doubt the Weaselette had gotten the package by now… he had gotten a bit of help with this one, as he didn't exactly abound in female clothing articles. The fact that Pothead and Weasel were present tonight at dinner made it all the more pleasant. He could only imagine Weasel's face when his baby sister showed up to dinner dressed in something from Pansy's wardrobe―

The doors cracked open, and a fuming redhead stalked towards him while trying not to draw too much attention to herself. Which, in itself, was a difficult feat; Pansy had chosen the items well, and the Weaselette was drawing quite a few stares from the male population. A fitted uniformblouse with the Slytherin crest adorned her torso, the top three buttons mysteriously missing, and a lacy black push-up bra exposed quite a bit more cleavage than the Weaselette usually allowed. Her skirt was a mockery of the uniform one; it rested low on her hips, and did not even come past mid-thigh.

Blaise gaped open-mouthed beside him. "Holy shit." Indeed, despite her subtle entrance, Ginny was drawing quite a lot of lustful stares from around the room. Draco smirked languidly as she finally approached him.

"Get. This. Off. Me. _Now_." She seethed, fists clenched at her sides.

"Are you quite sure?" Draco asked innocently. "I was planning to do that… _later_, but if you really want me to―"

A sudden look of comprehension crossed Ginny's face. "No, no, never mind." Scowling, she gingerly situated herself on the bench. "How the hell am I supposed to _sit_ in this thing?"

Draco took great amusement in watching her try to yank down the hem to cover a bit more of her leg, then hurriedly pull it back up as the lacy black knickers became visible.

"Don't ask me, I don't know," he said cheerfully. "Never worn the things. Do have something to eat, you're looking a bit peaky." Indeed, Ginny's face was turning from flushed to a chalky white.

"I don't need food, you git," she whispered vememously. "In case you hadn't noticed, my brother and his lovely friends are walking towards us and will be here in approximately three seconds."

"Ginny! What the bloody hell are you doing?"

Ron's head looked ready to explode, his face well on its way to matching the color of his hair. "Why are you dressed like some sort of, of scarlet woman?"

Draco smirked languorously. "I don't have a problem with it." Glancing at the dumbstruck Blaise, he added, "Neither does Zabini. In fact, I don't believe any male has a problem with it, except you."

"What did you do to her Malfoy?" Ron spat, glaring.

"Nothing." Draco suddenly got a very, very good idea. The Weasel might just keel over from shock. "Why would I do anything to my girlfriend?" He slipped his arm around Ginny's waist, hand resting against bare skin of her hip between shirt and skirt.

"_What_?" Ron's voice came out in a sort of strangled squeak, much to the amusement of the surrounding Slytherins.

"Ginny," Harry said comfortingly, stretching a hand towards her. "Gin, what are you doing? Come back and sit with us; I'll protect you if that bastard tries anything."

Ginny stared incredulously at him. "What?"

"Come on Gin. I'll take care of you."

She felt slightly faint. "Hold on a moment. You're offering to _protect_ me? When you've done nothing but ignore me for, oh, I don't know, _the past six years_?"

"Ginny, it's not that," Hermione protested earnestly. The redhead looked at her apologetically, before glaring at Harry.

"No Harry." Ginny put both her arms around Draco's shoulders. "Obviously, you're just jealous that Mal― that Draco has something you don't. Now, if you would be so kind? Leave."

"Ginny, you can't actually be dating that― that _thing_! After all the things he's said about our family―"

"Ron, didn't you hear me? Shove off!"

Draco watched this whole display with a great deal of effort. The feeling of Ginny's warm body pressed against his, combined with the excellent view down her shirt that he was afforded, took a good amount of concentration on his part in order to suppress the inevitable biological reaction.

"Ginny…"

"Harry, get over it. You've ignored me for a good long amount of time; I'd prefer to keep it that way," Ginny stated coldly. Turning to Draco, she said, "I think it's time we left."

Nodding absently, the Slytherin got up, slipping his arm back around her waist as they exited the hall, and to his slight surprise, she shivered. A smug grin crept onto his face. The Weaselette _did_ notice his obvious attractiveness.

As soon as they were out of the door, however, she removed his arm and stepped back. "You are going to give me your cloak, and then you are going to take this whorish ensemble off me. Now."

"I take it you already tried?"

"Yes I bloody well tried! In case you hadn't noticed, asking a Malfoy to remove my clothing is termed under Last Resorts in my book." She flushed, waiting for him to say something. When nothing happened, she repeated, "May I please have your robes?"

"I assume you don't fancy running around starkers, then?" At Ginny's scowl, he chuckled. "Fine." Draco removed his robes and tossed them to Ginny, who wrapped it protectively around herself.

"Now, get these atrocious things off me." When Draco stepped forward, she cried alarmingly, "_Without_ using your hands!"

"Relax. I have to tap your head with the wand." Muttering something incomprehensible, Draco touched the tip of his wand to her hair before uttering, "Finite incantatem."

Ginny suddenly felt _very_ exposed as a whoosh of chilly air brushed her bare skin, wrapped in nothing except Draco's cloak.

"Happy now?" Draco raised an amused eyebrow as Ginny blushed scarlet. Trying to avert his eyes from the two generous mounds covered only by his cloak, Draco offered her his arm.

"Seeing as I'm now your 'boyfriend'," he smirked, "I think I'll walk you to your dorm."

"Alright, but there's no need for the whole 'take-my-arm' crap. I can walk the stairs well enough starkers as I can fully clothed." Then as an afterthought, the redhead said venomously, "And just because the general public now thinks we're a couple does not mean that I in any way take back my hatred of you. You're still an evil blackmailing git."

"And you're still a filthy Weasley blood-traitor," he said easily as they ascended the stairs. While he was saying this, he snuck a look at the back of her (or should he say his?) robes. The emerald green fabric hung tantalizingly from her round little―

"And it also doesn't mean I will allow you to stare at, touch, or defile my body in any other way," Ginny said pointedly, stopping so suddenly that her elbow rammed into his stomach. Alarmingly close to his groin, he might add.

"As if you would stop me if I tried," he said smoothly, tracing her jawline with one finger.

_Smack!_

Draco yanked his hand back, eyeing her cautiously.

"I told you not to touch me," she said, thankful that the hallways were dimly lit. It would not have been good for him to see the flush rising to her cheeks. "I think I'll manage from here, thanks." Brushing past him, Ginny strode up the remaining stairs and out of sight.

* * *

Review monsters are hungry. Feeding is necessary for survival. ;P

Winter Fleur


	4. Sweet Dreams

_

* * *

Ginny walked down a deserted stone corridor, looking for an exit. Thefloor was cold, so cold that it made her skin draw tight and pebble with goosebumps, and she somehow knew that she was entirely alone. She just needed to reach the end of this hallway, and she would be able to leave…_

_Ginny broke into a run, her feet slapping the floor. As she ran, she half-watched the speeding walls around her, and saw suits of armorchange intostone, elongate, morphing into statues of a sharp old wizard._

_Ginny kept running, although now it seemed as if she was simply moving on ice; she was going nowhere, running in place. From out of the distance, a figure sped towards her, not walking, but not floating, either. It was cloaked in robes of deepest black, that much she knew before it hit her._

_She suddenly stopped running, looking around her in a sudden grip of terror. _

_She was in the Chamber._

_"Hello, dear Ginevra," a smooth voice said from under the cloak. Ginny choked with the need to swallow; a deep, pulsing fear started in her chest and snaked throughout her body like a twisted black vine. "It has been a long time."_

_Ginny tried to scream, to deny his claim, but her throat simply would not obey._

_"I told you I would come back," Tom hissed softly, stepping forwards. The redhead tried desperately to move back, to run, but her feet were rooted to the spot, held as if by the same ugly black vine of fear that kept her from speaking. "We had some unfinished business, did we not, my dear Ginevra?"_

_Tom lowered his hood, revealing gleaming red eyes and a face as pale as death. "I trust you did not forget?" He moved closer, drawing forth an obsidian knife, and Ginny had a fleeting image of him stabbing her through the heart. He moved against her, drawing the flat of the icy blade across her cheek and followed it with his fingers. "You shall be my dark queen, Ginevra."_

_As he moved the knife from her face to her body, Ginny struggled violently against her frozen hold, eyes wild in terror. What was he doing?_

_She instinctively recoiled as he brushed the bare skin of her arm, but the only visible sign of her repulsion was the barest twitching of her skin. She could not move._

_"You are mine, Ginevra," Tom whispered, lightly running the edge along her arm. "You are mine." He artfully dug the tip into her skin, deep enough to make her bleed. Ginny felt a searing iciness as he carved into her skin, the cut burning with pain and cold. He brushed his frozen lips over her neck, and his free hand traced the contours of her nightgown. _

_Screaming inside her head, Ginny wracked her brain frantically for something, anything. Anything to get him out of her mind and off her body._

_A faint memory of something she had overheard brushed across her conscious thought_―_ 'Close your mind Potter, you'll never keep the Dark Lord out without closing your mind!'_

_"Come, my sweet Ginevra," Tom whispered, placing his hand on the small of her back and licking blood off her arm. "Don't just sit there like a block of ice." He laughed maniacally, the echo ringing off the walls, and Ginny felt herself move towards him like a marionette. Horrorstruck, she tried to close her mind._

_I want him to get out, she thought forcefully. Out! Ginny searched her subconscious, looking for anything that was not a part of her. Everything was as it should be, except for an ugly black darkness. _

_Tom. _

_Feeling her arms wrap around his waist of their own accord, she frantically began to saw away at the edges of the fibrous dark mass._

_"What are you doing?" Tom spat. Suddenly the blackness grew, pulsing against her willpower._

_Out! She thought vehemently, rending him off her mind's subconscious. Get out of my head, out of my mind―_

_"Cease this immediately!" Tom snarled, but even as he went to reattach himself, she heard the sound of her own scream, strangely detached from her body, and then, she was falling. _

"Ginny! Ginny, wake up!" a voice cried tearfully. Ginny screamed again, and only when she was sure she was actually awake did she open her eyes. 

"Ginny!" Her roommates were huddled fearfully around her, along with Hermione, who looked as if she had been ready to cry. "Ginny, are you alright?"

"I― I―" her voice broke. "What happened?"

One of Ginny's roommates, Vanessa Malone, shuddered, the color only just returning to her trembling features. "You were screaming something awful, Gin. Scared the bloody hell out of all of us." The other girls nodded wanly, looking a bit frightened.

Ginny shuddered, feeling chilly despite the heat of the castle. Noticing Hermione watching her fearfully, she gave a flickering smile. "I'm fine now. It was probably just a nightmare." If only that was all it had been.

She rubbed her arms, and suddenly jolted as her hand slipped across something.

"Ginny―?" Hermione said tentatively, before crying out. "Ginny, oh my god, you're bleeding!"

Ginny looked at her fingers, and saw that they were indeed covered in her own blood.

A thud somewhere near her signaled that Vanessa had fainted, but her foggy mind only acknowledged this with a dim sense of sympathy. She looked down at her hands, vaguely intrigued with the slick crimson liquid, and barely registered Hermione's distant cries of alarm as a white fog crept over her vision and she blanked into unconsciousness.

* * *

She was lying on a bed; that much she knew. Cracking open one eye, Ginny squinted against the painfully bright light of the hospital wing and quickly shut it again. She was in the hospital wing? But why― suddenly, everything came flooding back to her in great big tidal waves that threatened drowning.

"Gin? Are you up?" Ginny grudgingly opened her eyes again, to see Ron sitting next to her bed. Hermione and Harry were standing off to one side, and Vanessa was in a bed next to her. Figured.

"Mmph," she groaned, rubbing her eyes blearily. A thick bandage was wrapped around her upper arm… the exact spot where Tom…

"How long?" she croaked.

"It's about noon," Hermione said, looking somewhat relieved to be able to do something for her. Ginny glanced at the clock; as she did, she noticed another figure standing in the infirmary. Draco leaned against the far wall, detached from the rest of the people around her bed, his face a smooth emotionless mask. The only thing that seemed human were his eyes; they watched her shrewdly, almost protectively. Wait, _what_?

She felt her head spinning. Since when had he been protective? About to open her mouth to say something, she closed it again. He was now looking at her with a bored kind of interest, as if she were a small child he was humoring. Had she imagined it?

"Ginny, it doesn't hurt or anything, does it?" Ron asked. She carefully avoided looking at Malfoy.

"Dunno," she said, examining the bandage. "Feels a bit numb." She glanced again at Malfoy, but he simply watched her.

"What happened, Ginny?" asked Hermione anxiously. "How did― how did it happen?"

Ginny fought the urge to smack her head repeatedly into the metal headboard for not thinking of an answer to this beforehand. She couldn't just up and out with, _Oh yes, well, you see, Tom has this strange thing with blood, you see, so he carved his initials into my arm._ She didn't think that would go down too well.

Thinking desperately for an excuse, the redhead muttered, "Must've cut myself on the bed or something."

Harry and Ron seemed to buy it at least, but Hermione still looked at her somewhat concernedly. She probably would have questioned Ginny further, had Madame Pomfrey not chosen that moment to bustle in and insist on an early departure.

"She needs quiet and bed rest!" the matron said reproachfully, pursing her lips. "Dumbledore's orders, now all of you, out!" She hustled the trio out the door, and only when the doors were shut again did she hurry over to Ginny.

"Here dear, drink this," Madame Pomfrey said, pouring out a questionable-smelling potion into a glass. "It's a blood-replentishing potion; those wounds simply refuse to heal." She shook her head as she handed Ginny the potion. "You'll just have to take a bit of this each night until we figure out how to seal the wound."

Ginny eyed the glass distastefully, and glanced at Madame Pomfrey's retreating back.

"And mind you drink that, dear, I'll know if you haven't." The nurse walked back into her office, shutting the door behind her.

Ginny grumbled, pinching her nose and taking the potion like a shot. _Urgh_. It was thick, just liquid enough to swallow, and had the disgusting taste of bad cabbage.

"Water?"

Ginny jumped and looked around wildly for the source of the voice. No one else was supposed to be in here!

Then her eyes fell upon the shadowed form of Draco Malfoy at the corner of her bed, a soft smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"How are you so bloody quiet all the time?" she said irritably. "That's the second time you've snuck up on me!"

Draco smirked. "It's one of my many talents. So tell me, how is it that you got your arm sliced open? And don't give me the load of shite you told Granger about knocking it on the bed, either. I could smell that lie from across the room."

Ginny scowled. "And what makes you think I'm going to tell _you_ if I didn't tell Hermione?"

"Why won't you tell?"

Ginny glared silently at him. _If he only knew…_

"It's obvious someone cut you with obsidian, you know."

"Oh, is it?" she answered, trying to keep the amazement out of her voice. How the bloody hell had _he_ known?

"Yes, actually. Only obsidian wounds can't be healed magically."

_Oh,_ Ginny thought._ Well that makes me feel stupid. _"Well, maybe," she grumbled.

Waiting for a smug look to plaster itself on Draco's visage, Ginny instead found him studying her intently, as if she were a fascinating book.

"Something interest you?" Ginny said.

"Yes, actually." He smirked. "You."

"what's _that_ supposed to mean?" she cried, but Draco was already walking towards the door.

"I suppose I can let you off your duties until you're out of the hospital wing," he called.

The door closed on his retreating form.

* * *

I am _so_ sorry it took me so long to update. I've been really, really busy, what with training for field hockey and going to the shore every weekend. So, I want to give a big, hugeamaluge thank-you to all of my darling reviewers who've waited so patiently! nods I really can't believe how awsome you guys are! This one's for you.

* * *


	5. Silk, Satin, and Old Smelly Books

I'm baaack! Hehe, I missed you all, your reviews were very much appreciated (however much they depressed me, as I couldn't write). Yay, so a nice big beefy chapter for you all, I know I've starved you... and Draco has missed you as well. I told him he could give you all a kiss on the cheek. yes, the cheek. He is MINE!

Wow, you know, I really love how I come back into this by displaying my insanity to you all. Typical. Hehe, well, on with things. Thank you soo much for being patient with my disgustingly busy schedule (I certainly wasn't Oo).

Happy reading!

* * *

"Miss Weasley?"

Ginny looked up from her book, brushing a strand of fiery hair out of her eyes. The headmaster stood near the edge of her bed, a fond expression on his countenance.

"I hope you are feeling well? I've just been to see Professor Sprout; it seems she thinks there might be a certain Albanian herb that is known to seal wounds of your kind."

Ginny noticed he didn't say "obsidian cuts" as Draco had; he obviously wanted to let her tell him herself. _Thanks for the offer, but no_, the redhead thought, meeting his gaze respectfully.

"My dear, may I be permitted to ask a question?" Dumbledore said as he polished one of the lenses of his spectacles.

"Of course, sir."

Dumbledore turned to her, gazing intently. "How did you sustain this wound?"

Ginny took a deep breath. _Shit, shit, shit, shit_. "Well sir, I can't really say." She desperately wracked her mind for ideas, stalling by pretending to look at the ceiling thoughtfully. "It might have been the knife I was using to cut up my ingredients for potions." She looked down. "It embarrasses me to say I might have fallen asleep while I was doing it."The headmaster chuckled, but his eyes scrutinized her face closely. He did not believe her.

_That has got to be the biggest piece of shit that has ever come out of my mouth_, Ginny thought.

"Well Miss Weasley, if you are sure that is how you got this rather prominent gash…" He folded his hands in his lap. "If you are absolutely sure? There is nothing else that could have caused this?"

Ginny felt her stomach writhe. Oh, if he only knew how badly she wanted to tell him…

"No sir. I'm sorry."

"Alright then, my dear. I hope you will see me if there is anything you want to discuss." He walked towards the door, his hand on the latch.

"Of course, sir."

Dumbledore smiled sadly as he slipped out of the room.

* * *

In a few days, Professor Sprout had procured the herb, which, by a rare stroke of luck, proved to be successful in closing up Ginny's wound. the next morning (Madame Pomfrey had insisted that she stay one more night), she was released from the overly-sanitary confinement of the hospital wing. 

Malfoy had taken no time in assuring her that he had several things for her to take care of, and if she would be so kind as to meet him at the entrance to the dungeons? Scowling, the redhead had grudgingly agreed before going to collect the mountain of homework that no doubt awaited her in her dorm.

"Hey Gin, how're you feeling?"

Hermione observed her carefully as Ginny moved the stack of books from her bed, watching for any favoring of her shoulder or winces of pain.

"Great, actually," Ginny said brightly. She went to dump the books on the table, and then changed her mind halfway. She might as well bring a few to wherever Malfoy wanted her to go, just in case she finished early. "I do have to go somewhere, though. D'you think you could give these to Ron for me? I couldn't finish them."

Ginny handed the Head Girl a partially eaten box of chocolate frogs and swung her bag onto her shoulder.

"Alright, if that's what you really―"

Ginny hugged her tightly. "Thanks 'Moine, you're the best," she said quickly, cutting off any questioning that might have commenced.

With that, she slipped out of the door and hurried out of the dormitories. Walking quickly through the halls, Ginny descended the last set of stairs and was swept up in the chilly dank air of the castle dungeons. The torches burning in the wall brackets gave off a weary yellow glow, illuminating the clammy stone walls. Searching warily for the pompous arse that was calling himself her master, Ginny let her bag slip to the floor next to her, slouching wearily against the wall.

"Ginevra my dear, really. So unladylike," Draco drawled from the dungeon entrance, his face covered in shadow.

Ginny rolled her eyes, resignedly picking up her bag. "If we're done with the insulting of the Weasley? I would really like to get this finished so I can catch up on my own work, if you don't mind."

Draco smirked, waiting so he knew she was following him before he set off down the corridor. "Of course, Ginevra."

After a bit of walking, they stopped next to a portrait of a scantily-clad woman, her sensuous red lips curled in a deathly smile.

"Cubile ab draconem," he spoke authoritatively, smirking as the woman revealed lethal fangs before the painting swung forward.

"Lair of the _dragon_?" Ginny snorted as they moved into the stairwell. A flight of steps spiraled straight up, the stone stairs carpeted with a rich oriental fabric.

Draco eyed her in annoyance.

"I know my Latin, ferret," she said distinctly. "In case you hadn't guessed, _all_ the pureblood families teach it, not just yours."

"Obviously." He began to ascend the stairs, and Ginny hastily followed him. "But don't think about trying to get in while I'm not here. You don't want to know what will happen."

Remembering the fangs on the vampiress, Ginny shuddered. "I'm sure I don't." They continued in silence for a good amount of time, ascending what seemed to be a never-ending staircase, until Draco stopped suddenly.

"Turn around," he said; the redhead, relieved for a break in the climbing, sat herself down on the stairs. She heard three distinct taps and several mutterings, before a clacking sound emanated from behind her.

"Alright. You can come in." Ginny turned around, startled to find that next to the stair Draco had been standing on, an arched doorway had appeared. The stairs continued up, but he had no doubt already gone through.

Slinging her bag back over her shoulder, Ginny stepped into the Head Boy's room. It was lavishly furnished, she noted, impressed. A gleaming chestnut floor was covered by plush emerald carpeting so thick that she was _sure_ it was at least two knuckles deep, and ornately carved dark chestnut furniture was displayed throughout. To the right stood a massive four-post bed, curtains pulled back with silvery ropes, and edges of emerald green silk peeked out from beneath the lush forest comforter.

_He has silk sheets_, Ginny thought faintly, glancing at the floor-length mirror next to his dresser. _Well, I already knew he was a vain git_. An immense fireplace sat on one wall, a gleaming coffee table and what looked like a green replica of the squashy common-room armchairs sitting before it. A door to the left of the fireplace looked to lead to a bathroom of some sort, as she could just see gold-veined marble tiles through the crack under the door. Heavy silver-vined drapes hung over a picture window, and next to it sat a small study alcove. Bookshelves crammed with tomes of varying thickness lined all three walls inside, and a black leather chair sat stoically in the very center, an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling.

"Come come, I know you probably haven't ever seen anything this tasteful, but I have things that need to be taken care of," Draco called, his voice muffled by the bathroom door. "There are potions ingredients that need to be prepared for stores, and that pile of clothes near the door needs to be mended." The shower tap then turned on, drowning out any replies she might have had.

Ginny scowled at the polished chestnut door. Trust him to use this for all it was worth.

Glancing around again, she noticed another alcove, half-hidden behind a curtain. In it was a worn but good-quality workbench, with several boxes and empty glass jars sitting next to it. Ginny smirked. She could do this in no time.

Taking out her wand, the redhead stood in front of the table and made a few passes over the knife and boxes with her wand. After the seventh pass, she gave a little flick of her wand and muttered an old family charm, grinning in delight as one by one the ginger roots floated out of the box to be chopped into neat, tiny pieces. She had mastered that trick as soon as she had gotten her wand, after watching her mother do it for so long.

Now, on to ―urgh― _sewing_. Eyeing the mound of clothes with growing distaste, Ginny frowned.

_Too bad I don't know a charm for embroidering 'Pompous Ass' onto all the hems._

Plopping herself down next to the pile, the redhead grabbed the needle and thread he had provided and pulled out the first item, a sandy-colored sweater with a tear in the darning, right along the bicep. _Isn't someone Mr. Muscles_, she snorted silently, quickly stitching up the hole and tucking the knot into the seam. From all the times she had ripped her own clothing in games of backyard quidditch, she was fairly quick at sewing by now. Even if she did loathe it.

Picking up the next piece of clothing, Ginny frowned at the bulge of extra material in one of the trouser legs. Really, did his mother never teach him to separate his clothes? Reaching her hand into the leg, the redhead pulled out a pair of… silk_ boxers_.

Did he really wear _silk boxers_? Ginny felt the cool material slip between her fingers, nearly as light as air. _Gods_, she thought. _I am holding Draco Malfoy's black silk boxers_―

"Yes, they are nice aren't they?"

Ginny's face snapped up, a derogatory comment dangling on the tip of her tongue to cover up the fact that she had been admiring his underwear, when she was suddenly taken aback. . _Oh my. Oh _my.

Draco lounged against the doorframe, covered in nothing but a green towel slung low around his hips. His bare chest resembled sculpted marble, pale, smooth, and deliciously sculpted. His arms were very well-defined, not too disgustingly huge, but definitely nothing he should ever hide, either.

_I've never seen his arms before_, Ginny thought faintly, before she suddenly snapped out of her daze. _I hope you do realize, this is a naked _Malfoy_ you're staring at._

"_Mal­_foy!" she squeaked, voice muffled by hands that were now covering her face. She had yet to notice that the boxers were still clutched in them. "You're making me ill, put some clothes on!"

"Well, I would need _these_―" he plucked the boxers out of her hand― "First."

Ginny's face burned red as she realized that she had not only fondled his underwear ―oh no, it was not enough to simply fondle his underwear― but she had been ogling him like some bumbling lovesick _ninny_. _Urgh_ tenfold.

"If you're done molesting them, that is?"

Ginny peeked through her fingers, making sure he wasn't naked or anything equally horrid before she tentatively removed her hands from her bright red face.

"I was not…_ molesting_ your― your― who even _has_ silk boxers, anyway?" she cried desperately, though the insult sounded wanting even to her ears.

"People who actually give a damn about what touches their royal asses," he retorted snootily. "Now I'll have to wash these, you know. You've soiled them with Weasley taint."

"Oh, don't worry, I didn't touch them. They did need quite a bit of taking in in the front, though; I noticed you did't need much room there." Ginny easily slipped back into Malfoy-sparring mode.

Now, at least, she knew what she was supposed to be feeling.

* * *

Malfoy sent for her nearly every night after that, leaving her with a list of menial tasks before going off to finish his own homework or simply laze on his magnificent bed, ordering her about and taking great joy in watching her perform his chores. After a while, Ginny found that it was easier to take her books with her and do her homework between chores, while ignoring Malfoy. 

Occasionally, he would leave her alone in the room, and it was during these times that she would take the Restricted Section tome out of her bag, keeping the illusion on the cover in case Draco happened to show up again. She was nearly halfway through the chapter on summoning demons by now; as she had feared, she would need a fairly powerful one in order to severe the link that still existed between her and Tom's minds.

She looked back down on the page, frowning as she tried to decipher the ancient text.

_In order for a sorcerer to effectively and in all entirety actually put a task or calling upon the specific demone which he or she has summoned, he or she must phrase their wording to the effect that it cannot become misconstrued in any way by that of the specific demone. Because of the tedious phrasing of his or her task, it is best for the master to write it down prehence, for if the demone is able to misconceive the charge in any way, it will do so in all and utmost fervor, for its primary objective in its own terrible being is that of destroying or otherwise obstructing the master and his or her wishes._

Ginny rubbed her temples. Lovely.

A word game with an evil spirit whose first plans were most likely to eliminate her.

Curse Tom to all of the seven hells.

_Just as when the sorcerer is completing the summoning of the demone, it is most crucial that he or she stay inside the chalk pentagramme until the charging in its utmost entirety is completed. Then, with the final words of _finite incantatem_, clap three times and step outwards from the circle. Only after this is done can the sorcerer be sure that they cannot in any way be harmed by the demone._

Ginny grumbled under her breath, brow furrowed in thought. This was going to be difficult. According to the earlier part of the book, she had to wait until the next full moon, which wasn't for another entire month, before she could actually summon a demon of a high enough rank to complete her task.

Only a very powerful demon could actually severe a mind link, she had gathered from the earlier chapters. She only hoped she would be ready when the time came.

* * *

So?You like? I know I don't have to ask for reviews, you guys are so good about that.

Until next time,

Winter Fleur


	6. Snow and Roses

Winter Fleur: (pops head out from hole in ground) Hello?

Readers: (glares)

Ginny: (glares)

Draco: (glares)

Readers, Ginny, and Draco: YOU'VE NEGLECTED US FOR THREE MONTHS! COUNT THAT, _THREE MONTHS!_

Winter Fleur: Yes, um, about that... (cringes)

Readers: Yes, ABOUT that!

Winter Fleur: (wrings hands) Well, you see, it happens to be like this... (goes off into long-winded, rambling explanation of how wild polar-bears ransacked her home, ate her sausages, and just so happened to steal her computer)... (eventually trailing off when Readers continue to glare)

Readers: (glare)

Winter Fleur: All right! I'm lazy, I'm sorry! NO more excuses for bad, bad me, I'm an official lazy bum, yes, that's already established! (dodges tomatoes hurled by angry Reader mob)

Readers: (MOB!)

Winter Fleur: (appeases with many cookies and cheese curls) Pant... pant...

Draco: I don't _like_ cheese curls! (swings club and tomatoes)

Winter Fleur: AGGHHH!

end of explanation skit

So, here you have it. Mistress Laziness herself has finally updated. I hope you all aren't _too_ upset with me... eyes suspiciously-tomatoe-like object Please, forgive me bows down to all-powerful readers HAIL READERS!

I hope I've managed to quell your fury over being neglected, and am still very, very sorry. -- but now, on to the update!

p.s. last time I had an author's note, I originally had it posted as a chapter, but later replaced it with a chapter of my actual STORY. The problem is, I don't know if a chapter replacement still counts as an update, so those of you who had me on author update, etc. may not have been notified. So, if you haven't read the previous chapter, make sure you do so

Mkay, now, REALLY moving on to story.

* * *

It was nearly three weeks until term ended. The first virgin snows had fallen overnight, thickly blanketing the ground, and the winter holidays suddenly loomed over Hogwarts' staff and students alike, dangling mistltoe and home-baked pies just out of their reach. 

Ginny scribbled furiously on her parchment, looping the letters in her last few lines a bit larger to take up more space. Just two more inches and she could join her brothers in the snowball battle currently raging beneath her window. Just one more…

"Done!" she said, throwing down her quill with a clatter and running to grab her coat and mittens. Pulling on the worn blue jacket, Ginny tore out the door as fast as her legs could carry her and sprinted down the halls. Taking the stairs two at a time, the redhead flung open a door, letting in a flurry of snow and crisp winter air, gathering a handful and packing it into a ball as she hurried through the courtyard to the grounds.

Surveying the situation with a general's eye, Ginny noticed that the previously all-Gryffindor match had shifted so that they were all now pitched in a violent battle against the Slytherins. How typical Hogwarts cliche.

A feral war cry tearing from her throat, Ginny loosed the snowball at a hulking form that she guessed to be Millicent Bullstrode before ducking behind Ron's wall, avoiding a counter-attack.

"What's the strategy?" she said breathlessly, grinning from ear to ear as she balled up another snowball. Ron looked at her, a bit of snow encrusted on his left eyebrow.

"Chuck and run, Gin, chuck and run."

Grinning, Ginny scooped up another snowball and stood up, hurling one after the other at random Slytherin targets. Glancing around at the delicious scene of wintry mayhem, Ginny stumbled forward as a snowball hit her square in her back. Whirling around, Ginny caught sight of silvery blonde hair a moment before she had to duck to avoid another missile aimed directly at her head.

"You!" she cried, bending down to scoop up snow as she ran after him. Packing it into a firm ball, Ginny flung it after Malfoy's retreating back, hitting him in the shoulder.

"Take _that_!"

"Obviously you have no idea of my skills, Weasley; otherwise you wouldn't be challenging me so blatantly!" Draco panted as he flung one snowball after another at Ginny, who dodged both of them.

"I think you're the one who's starting the challenge, ferret-boy; _you_ were the one who hit _me_." The redhead rolled in the snow to avoid another hit. Recovering quickly, she hurled her snowball at Draco; he dodged it.

"Have to do better than that Weaselette," he said, smirking as he flung another. This one hit her in the arm; frowning, Ginny doubled her efforts, scooping and packing and throwing with renewed velocity. Her next two hit Draco square in the chest.

"Ha! Take _that_, you evil Slytherin― mph!" Ginny's face stung from the scratch of millions of tiny ice shards. As she spat snow out of her mouth, she could feel clumps of the stuff sliding down her face and trickling down her neck. "No face shots, you filthy cheater!" she sputtered furiously.

Draco couldn't help it; he burst out laughing at the enraged look on her face and, unfortunately for him, didn't notice her eyes narrow determinedly and her fists clench. That is, until she let loose a startling war cry and tackled him to the ground in a flurry of snow and winter coats.

"Ah! Rape! Murder! Defilement by a Weasley!" he cried, voice muffled by her body and the snow. Draco could hear her triumphant laugh from above and quickly grabbed her arms, rolling them over in a tangled heap, and the pair struggled with each other in the snow until Draco emerged victorious, his hands pinning her elbows.

They lay there for a bit like that, panting, carefully observing one another from their respective positions. Draco's pale visage showed no trace of the cold weather, other than two tiny pink spots on his cheeks, and his pristine silvery hair was tousled marvelously; some of the snow had melted in it, making it hang in strands in front of his stormy gray eyes. He observed her shamelessly, surveying just her face for once.

Ginny's cheeks were rosier than normal, probably from his wonderfully-aimed snowball, if he did say so himself, and tendrils of her fiery hair had escaped her ponytail to frame her face. Crystals of snow were tangled throughout like shards of diamond in a raging inferno, and her eyes were brightened rebelliously.

"I win," he whispered, face just inches away. And then he kissed her.

Ginny's eyes widened in shock as his icy lips took hold of hers, demanding submission; she struggled underneath his body weight for a moment, trying to wrench her head away, but she was held fast. And then she could feel the searing heat of his breath, so different from his lips, and any hope she might have had of resisting was lost.

His hands reached down to cup her face, long smooth fingers stroking her skin softly, and Ginny touched his silky fine hair, sighing at the heady rush of emotions that erupted within her. She moaned softly into his mouth, his wonderful, firm, posessive mouth--

"Oy! Scumbag! Get your groping, slimy hands off my sister!"

Draco's headgave a violent jerkupwards as Ron's full body weight sent him flying to the side, and Ginny blinked, trying to shake off the kiss-induced stupor.

"Ron, you idiot!" she roared. Clambering to her feet, she rushed over and seized her brother's hands as he swung back for a blow. "What the bloody hell are you _doing_?"

"That prick was― was― Gin, he was _snogging_ you!"

Ginny raised her eyebrows, as if to say, _your point?_ "He _is_, er, my boyfriend, brother dear." Ron scowled, shaking the snow out of his hair.

"Who ever said you could date him?"

"Right Ron, because I need your permission," she spat sarcastically. Pushing past her stupid git of a brother, Ginny pulled Draco to his feet. "Come on, let's go."

Stalking back towards the castle with Draco in tow, the redhead couldn't see the triumphant look on his face as they tramped through the snow and ice.

"What was that all about?" Ginny asked as soon as they were through the door, stopping abruptly.

Draco turned around, bemused. "All what?"

"You _kissed_ me." Ginny scowled as him, cheeks coloring slightly.

"And?"

The redhead threw up her hands in annoyance. "You kissed _me_."

"Well, you certainly seemed to like it," he said, smirking as Ginny's face went from pink to red. "If you're asking whether I mean to follow up on it…" He leaned in, and Ginny's breath involuntarily caught in her throat. "That's for you to decide." His hand brushed the side of her hip, moving towards the back, and her breath came out in a small gasp.

_Smack!_

Draco yanked back, face stinging painfully from where her hand had hit it.

_Well, that answers that question_, Draco thought, rubbing his cheek and watching Ginny's ponytail swing in a fiery pendulum as she stormed away.

* * *

Ginny yanked her curtains shut. _Stupid bloody wanker_, she thought sulkily. _Thinks he can get any girl on the planet with his stupid bloody smirk_. 

Flopping onto her stomach, Ginny inhaled sharply as a hard object jabbed her through the covers. She grumbled, rubbing her torso, and yanked back the comforter to see the book lying innocently on the white sheets.

_I didn't put that there_, Ginny thought with a growing amount of alarm. _I didn't put that there, and I don't know who did_. She searched her mind frantically for who could have possibly picked it up.

It'd been in her bag when she'd come back from doing Draco's cleaning yesterday(he had decided to spill the bubotor pus she'd so patiently on the carpet three times, just to watch her clean it up); which of her roommates could have taken her bloody books?

She peered out, expecting to see one of the girls with Madame Pince positioned outside her bed like a siege, but of course no one was there.

_Think_. Sinking slowly back on her bed, Ginny wracked her brain for answers. _Who could have been in here?_ Any of her roommates, surely; Candace, Rhyanne and Emily had probably come and gone throughout the course of the day. And Hermione had come in to borrow a pair of pants earlier, as hers had gotten potion stains on them. The spell on the stairs ruled out any boys… but then again, any girl who knew the Gryffindor password could have come tromping through to root through her things.

Ginny rubbed her temples, feeling an intense urge to scream, long and loud. Rolling off her bed, she pulled a rolled up poster from underneath and scanned the moon chart, searching for the next full one. It was in two days.

Shoving the chart back into the dusty corner under her bed, Ginny mulled over her situation with a note of finality. The sooner she did the summons, the sooner she could be rid of this bloody book, and any evidence that she had had it.

And Tom.

And Draco.

Draco.

Burying her head in the pillow, the redhead fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

Sorry its so short. I kinda don't want to say this, as I've just had to take up half the update calming you all down () but... I'm kinda hitting a blank spot in the writing process. I'mtrying to work it out, but don't plan on many updates too soon. I love you all, but laziness and chem homework can be very time-consuming. I do promise, however, that spaces between updates won't be any longer than one month, at the very MOST.

Much love and cookies and cheese curls:

Winter Fleur


	7. Author's final? maybe Note

Alright, I'm finally going to put this out there. You guys probably hate me already, but then, you have good reason to, as I haven't been very responsive---although to one recentreviewer: it mostcertainly has _not_ been over a year :-/--- part of the reason is that my junior year is coming up, and I've been on a lot of scouting trips for field hockey and college visits, but most of it is just me.

Please, _please_ don't be angry with me takes breath but I'm closing this story for the time being. It isn't fair to you guys for me to keep saying "don't worry, I'll update in a month or two"; you've all been wonderful, and I think you deserve to be told what's happening with this. It's just that life is getting in the way right now, and I don't feel like this is going to get done. If I ever get a chance, I may open it back up, so you may want to check every year or so (exaggeration .-), but for right now, it's on hiatus. I'm so sorry.

If anyone is interested in continueing the story, you can review me a request, along with a link to a sample of your writing (sample not needed ifyou have an account here, of course .). Please be aware that I'm not going to let just anyone write it (it's still my baby), and I am very picky--- if you submit and I don't respond, don't be offended or anything. You don't want to know how many drafts I went through with this story just so I was happy with it.

Again, I wish to thank all of you for taking the time to read my story, and I'm sorry that I couldn't finish it for you.

Cheers, Winter Fleur

p.s. okay, I just read over this whole thing, and it seems kinda depressing. Just in case you were wondering, I'm not depressed or anything, I just feel bad that I let you guys down. And actually, my mood just turned to"exuding glee", as a delicious apple pie is about to come out of the oven so I can eat it.


End file.
